


The Council of Wacky Ideologies

by TheWorsht



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Anmon says himbo rights, Anprim says technology bad, Authunity bad parents smh, Gen, He means well but 🙏🙏, He psychoanalyses his friends when he’s stressed whats up with that, Homonationalist does stupid things, I try to give all of the wackies time to interact with eachother it’s what the deserve methinks, I’m not writing that in detail yknow I just see it as a tool for the story, Posadist is EVIL (affectionate), The Token Wackies Roadtrip Fic, They are a lovely little found family I don’t care what anyone else has to say on this matter, Transhumanist has the only brain cell help him, Warning for sad Nazbol, Warning for very vaguely implied sex stuff, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWorsht/pseuds/TheWorsht
Summary: I like stuff about the extremists as much as the next guy, but I think there’s a severe drought of fanfiction about the wackies, so I wrote this, and rewrote it, a good few times.This story follows the wackies as they make their silly journey down to the Overton window. It’s full of my headcanons for them and my complete disregard for canon!I will write Jreg’s poor poor neglected side characters more than him, I hope you enjoy! :]
Relationships: Anarchist Polycule (Centricide), Anarcho-Capitalist/Libertarian (Centricide), Anarcho-Monarchist/Anarcho-Primitivist (Centricide), Anarcho-Monarchist/Homonationalist (Centricide)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 94





	1. Roaches

**Author's Note:**

> I actually did rewrite this whole thing multiple times to fix typos and weird sentences so if you reread this and think that it’s not exactly the same that’s because it’s not :]

“I suppose everyone knows why I called you all here for this meeting.” Posadist stated, his normally impartial, but alarming tone of voice slightly more deranged than usual, and his antennae twitching.

The other ideologies around the rather dilapidated table all either sighed, shook their heads exasperatedly, or did a combination of the two.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The wacky communist observed, placing a hand on the table then turning it into a shaky fist. This seemed only to scare Anprim, who was standing opposite to Posadist, he had refused to sit, chairs were a form of technology after all.

“Out of the kindness of my heart, I invite you all to my home and you betray me.” Posadist continued, glancing around the room menacingly.

Homonationalist, who seemed the most bored and unwilling to be there was the first to respond. “Really Posadist, you’re still going on about this?”  
The fascist turned his attention away from the conversation and continued filing his nails as before.

The communist smiled menacingly at this, and leaned over the table, quickly snatching the file from Homonationalist and falling back into his seat.

“Ow!” The nationalist pouted, and rubbed the hand that Posadist made contact with, there was a slight burning sensation that quickly dissipated.

“Excuse me Posadist, but I believe that to have been rather unnecessary.” Anarcho-Monarchist leaned forward from his place at the table. “Are you alright Homonationalist?” He questioned.

Homonationalist shook his hand a little. “Ugh, I’m fine but my nail file isn’t.” He stated, nodding towards Posadist, who was staring at them as he melted said file, the objects atoms decomposing in his hands.

“I don’t get what your problem is.” The nationalist continued, treading the line between brave and stupid. “Those cockroaches are a health hazard Posadist, like, totally unsanitary.” 

Transhumanist, who had so far, been watching this all play out with only a sense of irritation, put his cardboard box head in his tinfoil covered hands and closed his eyes, knowing what was about to happen. “Beep boop.”

At the council meeting before last, Posadist had gone out of his way to invite his fellow ideologies to his home, which sounded fun for the first few seconds, until Transhumanist remembered that Posadists house was a glorified containment chamber and probably so full of radiation it put Chernobyl to shame.  
He had offered to provide the wackies with ways to combat this, it wouldn’t take much, they were already much more resilient than your average humanoid, but health precautions were always important if you didn’t have an impenetrable robot body.

However, as Transhumanist had somehow forgotten, they were all varying degrees of complete idiot. Anprim had said many times that he just didn’t believe radiation existed, Anmon was of the opinion that his genes were already so fucked they probably couldn’t get any worse, and Homonationalist had said that the mask just didn’t “vibe with his outfit”. 

Lil’ Nazbol was perhaps the only one who had taken his advice and put on the mask he had been provided, which was something at least, Transhumanist reasoned. 

When they all arrived at Posadists...house. A few things became abundantly clear.  
One. The building was in such a state of disrepair to the point that Transhumanist could not begin to imagine it in a state of regular repair. It wasn’t the nicest area in town by any means, but the wackies could tell which one belonged to Posadist from a while away.  
Two. The communist really liked the fallout games, judging by all of the posters strung up on the walls, which, wasn’t exactly a surprise.  
And three. The house had a cockroach infestation. It was really disgusting but honestly it all made a lot of sense, the others hadn’t been imagining that Posadist lived in a suburban semi-detached or anything based on their own living conditions; which ranged from ‘in the forest’ to ‘a Polycule basement’ to ‘a shitty apartment with like 4 other people’. 

But, they had gone inside anyway, out of politeness or just being plain scared of Posadist, and eventually they were all sitting in his ‘living room’ waiting for him to return with something for them to eat. Which the excitement in the room was palpable for, as in they were about as excited as the living room was alive. 

“Ugh, why did I even agree to come here.” Homonationalist began, speaking quietly to the other ideologies in hopes that Posadist wouldn’t hear from the other room.

“Because vassal, it was nice of him to invite us to his abode and it would have been rude to decline the offer.” Anmon explained, trying to justify against what he himself had been thinking moments before. 

“Anarcho-Primitivism does not want to be here.” Came Anprims voice. he was clutching his comically large dinosaur bone to his chest and eyeing the room suspiciously. “It is...scary.” 

Transhumanist rolled his eyes under the cardboard box and mask he was wearing underneath, according to his calculations the others had about 2 hours before they blacked out from radiation poisoning. With the exception of Lil’ Nazbol, who was sitting quietly on the worse-for-wear couch.

“You know I really don’t think this place is that bad.” The National Bolshevik stated cheerfully, swinging his legs over the side of the couch as they didn’t exactly reach the floor. The comment only served to make the other ideologies in the room worried for Nazbols own living conditions, as he appeared much more comfortable than he probably should have been.

Awkwardly, Homonationalist attempted to change the topic of conversation, when Posadist came back through the doorway, holding a plate with what appeared to be a cruel parody of sandwiches piled on top. He set them down on the wobbly coffee table and smiled. “Help yourself!” 

Upon further inspection of the cuisine the filling of the sandwiches was unrecognisable and no one was sure if they wanted to find out. This had left them in the unfortunate predicament of who was going to appease Posadist, who had been standing above them expectantly.

“Uh, Anarcho-Primitivist is thirsty, not hungry, sorry Posadist.” The Luddite tried your excuse himself, he really only ate raw meat and berries.

“Oh yes, I forgot people had to drink, I haven’t drank anything in years!” Posadist laughed to himself, this further unsettled everyone. “Transhumanist, take Anarcho-Primitivism to get a drink, you know where the kitchen is.” 

“Fine, beep boop.” He couldn’t stand the primitivist but he would take just about any excuse to get away from this situation. He stood up quickly, signalling with his tinfoil covered arm for Anprim to follow. 

Anprim leapt up from the floor, dinosaur bone in hand and made his way across the room, bumping into Transhumanist and grabbing onto him. Transhumanist shooed the Primitivist off of him and they left as quick as they could. Transhumanist made his way towards the kitchen and Anprim followed. “You are not actually thirsty are you?” He observed.

“No.” Was the Anarchists simple answer. “Anarcho-Primitivist does not want to eat food that Posadist bring.” He shook his head sadly.

“Yeah I don’t want to eat it either, beep boop.” Transhumanist reached up towards one of the cabinets that he remembered had cups in it, they could at least make it sound like they were getting Anprim a drink, if the house even had running water. He almost felt bad for Posadist, who’s attempted hospitality was really going to waste because of the state of his house and whole buildings rancid nature. 

As he opened the first cabinet three unnaturally large cockroaches came crawling out, he stepped backwards, moving his hand away from the bugs. “That is disgusting.”

If he didn’t still have useless human fear and inhibitions it wouldn’t have scared him and he could have just taken a glass, just another reason to want robot arms. 

The roaches crawled over the dirty counter and down to the floor, Anprim looked unimpressed and stepped away from them. “Even forest not this unhygienic.” He mumbled. 

Transhumanist rolled his eyes, he thought briefly about how he had been doing that more and more often the longer he spent around the other wackies. Truthfully Transhumanist didn’t consider himself a wacky, who didn’t want a robot dick? 

As he debated with himself in his head, he had moved to crush the roaches crawling across the floor under his shoe. Without thinking, before he could consider the consequences to his actions, the deed was done.

And that had led them here, with Posadist about to throttle Homonationalist to death over some cockroaches that Transhumanist had accidentally squashed. Of course, Posadist didn’t know that and probably wouldn’t accuse him of the heinous crime. 

“None of you understand do you? Those cockroaches are my comrades!” Posadist was almost shouting, his composure gone completely. “None of you are allowed at my house until someone admits to this.” 

The wacky communist slid his chair backwards and stood up, not bothering to tuck it back under the table as he stormed out of the room in which they held their meetings. Homonationalist shook his head and started scrolling through his phone. “Does anyone have anything important to say? I’ve got somewhere to be.” Anmon looked over to him with a questioning glance at that. 

Nazbol frowned. “I feel bad for him, he really cares about his roaches.” He stated sadly.

“No feel bad Nazbol, roaches everywhere, he get more.” Anprim responded, patting the Bolsheviks head through the top of his Ushanka. 

“There are many worse outcomes to this scenario, beep boop.” Transhumanist reasoned, Posadist could have just killed everyone, according to his analysis that was a pretty reasonable possibility, though he decided to keep that to himself. 

“I understand it is a trivial matter, yet I still feel bad for our communist friend.” Anmon added.

Transhumanist sighed. “I will go and talk to him.” He decided, annoying human emotions making him feel things for Posadist. He placed both his and Posadists chairs back under the table and went to leave. Nazbol stood up as well, following Transhumanist, “I’m coming as well!”

Anprim didn’t accounce his departure and pulled open the rooms back window, jumping out as he usually did, not wanting to have to interact with anyone and running straight back into the bushes behind the derelict building. 

This left only Homonationalist and Anmon sat opposite eachother. “I don’t really have anywhere to be, by the way, I just don’t want to talk about cockroaches, they’re gross.” The former exclaimed, still looking at his phone.

“It is indeed an unpleasant topic.” The Monarchist agreed. “ I do not understand why Posadist is so fond of them.”

“Maybe it’s the name.” Homonationalist chuckled to himself, Anmon thought for a moment, the comment taking a minute to register. “Homonationalist that is disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do about it big man?”


	2. Something

“Posadist wait!” Nazbol shouted after the groups leader. He sounded slightly out of breath, running quickly to keep up with the much taller Transhumanist. 

Posadist, who had been sulking away down the halls of the abandoned building that the wackies frequented, stopped walking, antennae leaning back towards the sound of Lil’ Nazbols voice, trying to register it. 

Once he figured it out he let the two other ideologies catch up to him. 

“What do you want?” His composure had returned from the change in attitude a few minutes earlier, however it came alongside a layer of sadness in his already strange voice. 

“I wanted to apologise, beep boop.” Transhumanist explained, internally uncomfortable with the amount of petty human emotion he was displaying.

“Why would you want to apologise?” Posadist looked confused. “It was Homonationalist-”

“No, I killed your cockroaches, by accident, I stepped on them in the kitchen.” Transhumanist interrupted, closing his eyes in preparation to be squashed like a roach himself.

Nazbol took a cautionary step backwards, surprised that his fellow ideology would admit to such a thing. He was under the impression that it was Homonationalist as well, the fascists attitude about the whole thing hadn’t exactly helped his case.

Though, much to Transhumanists surprise, his slow, radiation based death didn’t arrive and he reluctantly opened his eyes to look through the holes in the cardboard box.

Anger flashed across Posadists face for a split second, but it faded into a kind of disappointment. So many emotions, if only he were a robot, no emotions, just logic, best of all he wouldn’t have to deal with how awkward this had become. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” The communist seemed downtrodden, not a trace of anger like Transhumanist had predicted. Confusing.  
Incapable of formulating a good response Transhumanist stood blankly, feeling oddly guilty but unable to say anything.

Nazbol stepped forward. “He didn’t want to upset you!” He said assuredly, patting Transhumanists arm. 

“Oh.” Posadist paused for a moment, his usual, borderline sadistic smile slowly creeping back onto his features. “I’ll find a way for you to apologise.” He continued.

Nazbol raised an eyebrow, confused as to what exactly that meant. Transhumanist didn’t want to know, he was just glad that Posadist seemed back to...normal.

Or as close as Posadist could get to that. 

The communist chuckled and turned back around, calling out as he walked away. “Well, I’ll see you again next week then, won’t I?” 

“Uh, yeah!” Nazbol replied. Transhumanist let out a sigh and looked down at the Bolshevik. “Thanks, beep boop. I guess we should, tell the others that Posadist is fine now.” 

“Okay!” Nazbol smiled, running back in the direction of the meeting room with Transhumanist close behind. 

As the confrontation had continued outside, Anmon and Homonationalist were left to continue their discussion in said meeting room, and Anmon had been, in his mind, left with very few options of what to do next. Homonationalist had finally put down his phone and was leant over the table, staring at him with that stupid, enticing grin on his face.

The monarchist could, accept defeat, or, in Homonationalists words “do something about it”, he thought for a second, before making his decision, there were few things Anmon loved more than winning. 

Within seconds Homonationalist had been pulled across the table by the collar of his shirt. The force of the action slid Anmons chair backwards towards the wall as Homonationalist tried to regain his balance. 

“Silence.” Was the Monarchists simple statement before pulling the other ideology into a kiss. It didn’t last long, after a few moments they had both pulled away to breathe. “Yeah that definitley works too.” 

“Degenerate.” Anmon responded, there was no malice to the insult. 

“Im degenerate? Aren’t you the one married to your sister?” The nationalist leaned forward and smirked. The monarchist turned as red as his cape.

“I am not! I do not even have a-” Homonationalist cut him off, “Yeah yeah, whatever, your majesty.” he teased. 

As the two moved to continue, the familiar sound of a comically large dinosaur bone hitting the grass outside distracted them. Anmon leaned to the side to look past Homonationalist, to see Anprim scrambling today climb out of the window with an embarrassed look on his face. 

“Anarcho-Primitivist very sorry, forgot dinosaur bone.” It was obvious he didn’t want to stick around, clearly surprised and slightly uncomfortable with what he had walked in on.

“A-Anprim! You were not meant to see that!” The other anarchist hurried to try and explain, the nationalist still sat on top of him began to laugh, Anmon lightly pushed Homonationalist off of him in response. 

Luckily Homonationalist caught himself on the table before he landed on the floor, he laughed again, having been in this sort of situation far too many times to be embarrassed by it. Anmon was still highly flustered though, attempting to readjust his crown which had almost fallen off in the previous commotion. 

Anprim didn’t want to discuss what he had walked in on longer than he had to. “It fine, keep, doing what you doing, ignore me, Anarcho-Primitivist leaving now.” 

Homonationalist was really laughing now.

“A-Apologies Anprim! I,I’ll see you later!” Anmon shouted after the other anarchist who had already disappeared back into the forest. 

“Oh that is amazing, it really is. We can continue, this, another time.” Homonationalist smirked, emphasising ‘this’ with a hand gesture and heading for the door. 

“Where are you going?” Anmon asked, slightly annoyed at Homonationalists sudden departure. He didn’t get an answer, as Homonationalist left without providing one. Anmon sighed and once again adjusted his crown. He slid his chair forward and reached under the table to grab his sword so he could leave. 

He would have to see Anprim tonight at the basement, that would be awkward. The next time he saw Homonationalist it would tense on his end as well. Homonationalist would be fine, he never seemed embarrassed by situations like this.  
The monarchist wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that, he liked Homonationalist much more than he would admit, and knowing that the other was going outside and..fraternising with potentially dangerous strangers every other night made Anmon slightly uneasy. 

He had much more of a watch over Anprim and the other anarchists, he did not have to worry for them as much. Well, realistically there was nothing he could do to change Homonationalist though, and anyway it’s not like Anmon lived the most savoury lifestyle either. 

“I suppose we are called the ‘wackies’ for a reason.” He mumbled to himself, heading for the window as well, wanting to avoid Homonationalist or even Posadist, being near the other wackies could be very draining.


	3. The Conquest of Drip

The following two weeks had been as normal as they could get, all of their lives continuing as they usually did until the calandar ticked down to the next council meeting. 

It had been a while since they had all met each other at the first meeting Posadist has arranged, and the date to meet with the regular extremists was drawing closer. Posadist had informed the wackies of their meeting place, outside of the Overton window.

Transhumanist was going to drive, he was the only one with a car. He didn’t trust Posadist or Homonationalist, Anprim obviously couldn’t drive, neither could Nazbol, and Transhumanist couldn’t quite imagine Anmon being a very good driver. The transport vehicle in question was Transhumanists old pickup, just enough room for them all if Anprim and Posadist sat in the back. Homonationalist and Anmon hadn’t wanted to argue when Nazbol had called shotgun.

They had set off in the morning, and endured a long 5 hours with eachother. Everyone was on varying degrees of wanting to kill eachother. It was far too hot and cramped.  
Transhumanist hadn’t spoken a single word in 4 hours and all anyone could hear over the sounds of the car, was Anprim shouting his tribal songs from the back of the truck. 

The only one who seemed to be having a good time was Nazbol, because he had fallen asleep 2 hours ago.

“Aey ya ya ya ya! No way to prevent this! Aey ya ya ya ya! Very sad! Very sad!” Anprim shouted out again. Posadist, who was sat across from the primitivist, was using every cell in his irradiated body to hold himself back from attacking the other. 

Anmon was glancing warily at the situtation behind him through the back window when something in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he averted his attention. The group were currently driving through desolate, unpopulated land, or so Anmon had thought.

A huge, gated city stood in the distance, skyscrapers reaching the clouds, emanating yellow light around them, it was a rather pleasant sight contrasted against the clear bright blue sky. Anmon scanned the landscape for a road sign explaining the sudden appearance of the metropolis, the last time the anarchist had travelled down this road the city had obviously not been there. 

“Transhumanist, I do not appear to be, hallucinating, do I?” Anmon leaned forward and pointed at the city, Transhumanist quickly glanced over and settled on the city as well. 

“Beep boop, no.” 

“It is simply that, I do not remember there being a city here, do you?” Anmon continued, attracting Homonationalists attention as well. Transhumanist nodded. “I do not remember there being a city here either-”

A particularly loud screech from Anprim cut off any further conversation and Transhumanist sighed heavily. “We will stop there for tonight.” 

The monarchist nodded and moved back into his seat. Homonationalist hit his hand against the back window to get the attention of the two ideologies in the back. Posadist turned his attention and followed Homonationalists motionining as he pointed to the city, smiling and nodding in understanding. 

A few more minutes of driving and and a sign came into view next to a split in the road, the turnoff heading in the direction of the city, which Transhumanist now supposed was called ‘Ancapistan’ thanks to the road sign. 

Transhumanist manouvered the car into a large parking lot outside the gates of the city. The parking spaces seemed to be in poor condition, and he saw many machines for paying. “‘Ancapistan’ yeah sounds about right, beep boop.” Transhumanist muttered to himself. 

He parked the car anyway and turned off the ignition. Homonationalist and Anmon immediately got out, the nationalist was complaining about cramps in his legs but Transhumanist tuned it out, reaching into his pockets for the little money he had brought. He hadn’t thought he’d have to use any. 

Posadist and Anprim had also gotten themselves out of the back by now also. Once Transhumanist found his wallet he nudged Nazbol with a tinfoil covered arm to wake him up. “Nazbol.”

The little authoritarian blinked and adjusted to the light. “Are we at the Overton Window yet?” He yawned. 

“No, we have stopped in, An- somewhere, beep boop.” He felt he probably should not mention where exactly they had stopped. “Oh, okay.” Nazbol said with a frown, leaving the car as well. 

Transhumanist moved as quickly as the cardboard covering his body would allow towards the payment machines. They were as exorbitantly priced as he expected.

When everyone was a robot this wouldn’t be a problem, he thought. He payed anyway and made his way back to the mismatched group of ideologies, already arguing about something inane. Transhumanist did a quick headcount. Of course they were missing someone.

Surveying the land, he quickly found the missing ideology. Posadist stood out starkly against the bleak landscape and large golden gate, the communist was headed towards two men stood outside of the said gate, one taller than the other and both wearing hats, behind them, a large white sign, simply displaying ‘ARMS’. 

After a few more seconds of surveillance he had discerned why Posadist had snuck away, the gate seemed to have a very over the top defence system, namely a large ‘McNuke’ attached to the side. He sighed, Posadist never seemed to understand how unsettling he was to most, or chose to ignore it. Transhumanist wasn’t sure which he preferred. 

He coughed for the attention of the other wackies who turned to face him. He pointed over to Posadist, then up at the nuke, attached to the gate that was pointed at the ground. Anmon groaned and began running after the communist. The others reluctantly did the same. 

Posadist continued to approach the two men, too busy waving at someone walking away to notice him sneaking up. He chuckled as he spoke, tone jovial but almost sinister, it grabbed the attention of the two men who looked over in confusion and slight fear at the communist.

“Excuse me, how much for the nuke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title has nothing to do with the chapter I just think it’s funny


	4. Ancapistan

Ancap glanced over at Libertarian from under his sunglasses, the shorter man seemed deeply unsettled, he stepped a little closer to Ancap and returned the other capitalists look. 

In the capitalists usual fashion, a confident smile returned to his features and he extended a hand, inviting Posadist for a handshake.  
“Aha, that one is not for sale, but we have others!” Ancap responded.

Posadist looked down at Ancaps hand and laughed, holding up his own hand, Orange and with a strange glowing to it. “Heheh, I wouldn’t do that.” 

Ancap withdrew his hand awkwardly, looking back to libertarian, who shrugged. Posadist smiled. “I’m Posadist.”

Libertarian moved to respond and introduce the two of them but was cut off by shouting in the distance. 

“Posadist! That’s where you went!” His antennae twitched and he turned to face the owner of the voice. It appeared that the other wackies had caught up with him again. It was Homonationalist who had called out. Anmon was waving as he ran, the others not far behind. “I feared that we had misplaced you!” He laughed, catching his breath and surveying the situation. “We are sorry about our friend here-” The Monarchist continued, speaking for the group. 

“Anarcho-Monarchy?” Ancap cut him off with a questioning look from under his sunglasses. The tone implying that he recognised the other anarchist, surprised Libertarian, who was still stood awkwardly behind the other capitalist.

Anmon looked between the two, squinting as he racked his brain for the memories he knew were there somewhere, he had never been the sharpest. “Ancap?” He concluded, it had taken him a moment to recognise the capitalist thanks to his new clothing and overall demeanour. “You look so different!” The monarchist stated.

“Anmon! Long time no see.” Ancap smiled, extending his hand once again. The Monarchist took it and smiled confidently back. “Indeed! Ancapistan eh? You have done well for yourself friend!”

“Ancap, you know these guys?” Libertarian asked, relieved that the NAP would not have to be violated today. 

“Oh well, I know Anmon here, we may disagree on many things, but he is a good friend of Hoppean’s, and the vast amounts of raw gold I have managed to- that he possesses, is impressive!” Ancap answered, having completely forgotten Posadist at the prospect of a more lucrative deal. 

Libertarian noticed this and instead kept his attention on Posadist, who was still hunched over, admiring the McNuke they had prepared, much to the dismay of the other, strange ideologies that had appeared alongside the creature. 

Anmon laughed awkwardly. “Ah, yes, the gold, well no one need know about that.” He glanced back towards the other wackies, who seemed just as bewildered at this turn of events that the Libertarian did. 

“These are my future vas- fellow members of the council of wacky ideologies.” He introduced, catching himself before calling them his vassals, which they would be one day but he held off. Homonationalist stepped forward, patting Anmons shoulder, implying that the Monarchist should stand back. 

“Yeah, Hi, I’m Homonationalist, we’re on our way to join the extremists, say, aren’t you an extremist?” The fascist began. “Ancap, right?” 

The capitalist smiled, finding great amusement in Homonationalists looks, a similar, but much more camp, apporoximation of Nazi. The similarities didn’t fly over Libertarians head either. Upon further inspection of the group, Libertarian noticed a few things. One of the ideologies bared a resemblance to the Commie, but much, much shorter, the Ushanka the ideology was wearing certainly helped with this comparison. He also recognised Transhumanist, it was hard to forget someone wearing a cardboard box over their head.

“Yes, Ancap, and well I was but it, wasn’t working out.” He continued to smile confidently, clearly summarising, but Homonationalist didn’t care about the specifics. 

“This is my business partner Libertarian, and this, is Ancapistan.” He proudly introduced to Homonationalist and Anmon, gesturing to the tall gates of the city, the bustling city centre could be seen in the distance. 

“Nice yo meet you and all that, but have you seen the remaining extremists anywhere then? That’s why we’re here.” The nationalist was getting bored of the introductions. 

Libertarian stepped forward. “You just missed them.” He said simply. Ancap nodded in agreement. “They left just a moment ago, after they payed the entrance fee!” He and Libertarian laughed.

Anmon caught on and laughed as well, jabbing Homonationalist with his elbow. Homonationalist laughed awkwardly, not at all seeing why that was funny, it was a setback. Libertarian stopped laughing and smiled. “Talkin’ of entrance fees you’ll all have to pay it if you want to come through our private property.” 

Ancap frowned with a manufactured sadness. “I’d love to let you all in free of charge, but that’s not how it works here in Ancapistan.”

Homonationalist looked over to Anmon, them back to the other wackies, all undoubtedly piss poor. There was no way in hell any of them had the money to pay for the entrance fee to somewhere like Ancapistan. 

Anmon returned the supremacists look and sighed. “My friends here do not possess vast quantities of wealth like you or I.” He half-lied, he didn’t really possess any quantity of wealth either.

The anarcho-capitalist pretended to think for a moment. “That’s a shame, it really is.” He began. “Say, what if I let all of your little group in, and I’ll sort out your finances, for just a little more of your families gold?” He smirked.

Homonationalist glanced at the Monarchist with surprise, you learn something new every day. Anmon turned to face the assorted group of wackies and contemplated.  
“Hey, you don’t have to like, do that if-” Anmon cut him off. “Oh yes, that would be more than fine.”  
Ancap looked over to his partner and smiled, Libertarian did the same, smiling with adoration.

“I understand you don’t have it with you, I imagine it will be in the same place as before? So someone will be sent to collect it.” Ancap confirmed, moving to open the Ancapistan gates. Libertarian scrawled something on a peice of paper and pulled a small card from his pocket. 

“Catch.” He said, throwing it in the general direction of the wackies, Homonationalist caught it easily, glancing over it as Libertarian made his way over to Ancap, talking quietly to the other. Ancap smiled at his words and spun around as he finished opening the gate. 

“Libertarian here has had a wonderful idea, we are holding a party tonight tonight at one of our - many - mansions, why don’t you all come? I’m sure it will be worth your time.” He smirked.

Nazbol hadn’t been interested in any of the boring and disgusting capitalist conversation the four had been having, only vaguely listening, unlike Anprim, who hadn’t been listening at all, and was having a hushed arguement with Posadist over the nuke.

Though, once he heard the word party he quickly became interested, pushing past Homonationalist and Anmon to look up at Ancap. A dirty capitalist pig no doubt. “A party?” He asked. “What kind?” 

Libertarian looked down with confusion. “Not one where kids are allowed.” Was Nazbol a child? He couldn’t tell. 

Ancap rolled his eyes beneath the sunglasses, patting Libertarian on the shoulder. “Don’t mind Libertarian here, this is Ancapistan! Kids are allowed at a little get-together.” 

He raised his eyebrows, trying to discern what it was about the short ideology that seemed so familiar. He looked like that Commie, stupid hat and everything. 

“What’s your name then?” Ancap asked. The little authoritarian glared up with annoyance. “I am Nazbol.”

Of course it was a Nazbol, all of those annoying workers rights...as long as they were the same race. Ancap supposed it wouldn’t be too bad to let the kid into Ancapistan, it wasn’t really a Commie, completely. He didn’t really have a choice, the child looked feral, like it would bite him at any given moment. 

Also sensing this Anmon pulled Nazbol back and held him up by the collar of his shirt. “Thankyou for the offer Ancap, we will be there.” The other anarchist smiled confidently, and began walking towards Ancapistan.

Homonationalist groaned and followed after him, clearly annoyed. “We are just supposed to be staying here for the night. Not going to some party.” 

“You think I do not know this Homonationalist? Have you not supposed that the extremists will be at this party as well? Or that it will be a good place to start searching? So, we can join up with them early.” Anmon reasoned, still holding Nazbol by the collar, who was struggling to escape the others grasp. 

He saw that the nationalist was still unconvinced. “There may be attractive men there.” He sighed, embarrassed he had said such a thing, but it had done its job, Homonationalist smirked, he was on board with the idea.  
He turned around to collect the other three wackies, make sure they were still following and he began to formulate a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Libcap rights


	5. Ancapistan 2 Electric boogaloo

Transhumanist had little idea of what Homonationalist and Anmon had done to get them in, too busy trying to convince Posadist that carrying a nuke around would be a bad idea and policing Posadists discussion with Anprim to listen to the negotiations. 

He had recognised Libertarian from a distance, Libertarian had recognised him also, Transhumanist could infer based off of the capitalists glancing over at him. He had felt no need to bring it up, though he wondered how the Moderate had ended up here, and how Ancap and ended up here too. He reasoned that it must have meant that the Authoritarian Left and Authoritarian Right ideologies were the only ones left. 

As they made their way towards the city, Transhumanist considered that he should be very happy that they ended up in a place like this, where better to get a robot body from than this place. 

Homonationalist had told him the plan, they would find somewhere in Ancapistan to stay, then all but Posadist would attend a party that could lead them to the remaining extremists, while Posadist would try and contact the Communist.

Anmon, who was quite a fan of the cities supposed ‘Every man can be a king’ attitude, had taken the lead exploring Ancapistan broken roared streets. As the most economically right ideology who was also the least out of place looking of the wackies, it had fallen into place naturally. 

The group certainly did get their fair share of weird looks, an over 6’0” man with a cardboard box on his head, a literal caveman dragging around a huge bone, whatever the hell Posadist was, and a Nazi wearing a hat with a rainbow swastika on it was not something you saw every day, or ever, if you were lucky. 

That wasn’t to say Anmon didn’t look strange either, wearing a replica crown and holding a sword in one hand, and a feral Russian child shouting expletives at him in the other. The Anarchist eventually found the cheapest hotel he could, as in, not cheap at all, and got the group inside. 

With the card that Libertarian had thrown at him Homonationalist payed the fees for the night and got the group inside. They all gathered in one room, and Posadist made his way to the front to speak. 

“Well that was certainly eventful.” He laughed, looking around the small room at the tired group of ideologies. “But, we are closer than ever to our goal, and that is, a little surprising.” He laughed again, smiling. 

Everyone nodded in agreement, except Anprim, who glanced around in confusion, before slowly raising his hand. “...Posadist?”

“Yes Anarcho-Primitivist?” 

“What is ‘our goal’? Anarcho-Primitivist forget.” 

There was a collective groan from the others at Anprims question, but Nazbol leaned forward happily to offer an answer. “To join the extremists!”. Anprim nodded slowly at this. 

Anmon raised an eyebrow. “No, I believe that our goal is to the destroy the centrists?” 

“No, beep boop, our goal is to get that robot dick.” Transhumanist muttered to himself, laughing at his own joke, not wanting to be too loud as Nazbol was in the room, but it was loud enough that Anprim, sat on the floor next to him, heard it.  
The primitivist grew angry at that answer, about to complain about the mention of technology, but Posadist cut them off before any arguement could start. 

“That doesn’t matter, you’re all correct.” He interjected. 

Transhumanist moved to look down at Anprim, the primitivist couldn’t see the other ideologies facial expression under the cardboard box, but he knew that there was some sort of annoying grin underneath. 

“Either way, we are close. I have been trying to get into contact with the Communist but I’ve had no luck, hopefully tonight you will all be able to find them.” 

Homonationalists phone buzzed and he reached into his pocket for it, he looked over the screen for a few moments, to read the message that had appeared. 

“How the hell did those Capitalists get my number?” He questioned, Anmon made a confused noise and leaned over to look at the others phone, there was a single message providing an address and time, with the simple message of ‘Be there!’.

This set off a chain of events, eventually culminating in the group standing awkwardly outside of a lit up mansion on the edges of the city as Homonationalist messaged Posadist to tell him that they had arrived. 

Transhumanist had dejectedly conceded his cardboard box for the occasion, leaving it with Posadist, but he had refused to take of the tinfoil arms.  
They had also managed to force Anprim into some clothes, in a similar fashion to forcing a cat into a bath. The only thing stopping him from pulling them off were threats from Posadist. Anmon had even left his crown and sword.

The wackies had tried their hardest to appear as normal as possible, but it barely worked when compared to the average people at the party. They stood out massively against all of the rich businessmen and women.

Homonationalist, confident as ever, stepped forward. “This will be great. Just keep on the lookout for the extremists okay? And have a little fun while you’re at it.” He finished, before disappearing into the crowds.  
Anmon sighed, averting his attention to Anprim, who seemed extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation. 

“Anprim, you will stay with me. Transhumanist, keep an eye on our authoritarian friend.” He pointed over to Nazbol, currently investigating one table where drinks had been provided, absolutely none of them safe for Nazbol to consume. With this, Transhumanist rushed over, leaving the two Anarchists to start searching. 

“Come on Anprim.” Anmon took the primitivists hand and led him further inside. 

Transhumanist pulled Nazbol backwards from where he was trying to drink from a glass of red wine, and turned him in the opposite direction from the drinks table, starting to walk him away. “You are not allowed to drink that, beep boop.” 

He felt odd saying ‘beep boop’ without the mask, in general he thought sounded strange with out the altered voice and just, didn’t like not covering up his face. He felt rather uncomfortable without it, though reasonably he knew wearing it would have drawn more attention to himself. He adjusted his glasses and pushed away his problems to attend to Nazbol, who was frowning up at him. “Why?”

He should distract him from that and start looking for the extremists. “Uh, it’s for real ideologies, beep boop, we have to-” 

“I’m a Nazbol! I am a real ideology!” The little Authoritarian rebutted, interrupting Transhumanist, he was about to continue when Transhumanist was distracted by a tap to his shoulder. 

The tap came from a man of below average height, who definitely seemed short when compared to Transhumanist. He had short dark brown hair, died blue at the ends, and was wearing a black suit jacket, he sported a wide, confident smile on his face. 

“Hello there! The names Minarchist!” The man, now Minarchist, introduced, grabbing Transhumanists hand and shaking it happily, once done, extending his hand to Nazbol and doing the same. 

“You two are the, wackies, right? Ancap told me about you.” He explained, still smiling. 

Transhumanist nodded. “Uh, yes, we are members of the council of wacky ideologies, beep boop. I’m Transhumanist.” He gestured down to Lil’ Nazbol. “This is National Bolshevik.” 

“Hello!” The nationalist waved up at Minarchist. “Was ‘Ancap’ the Kulak with the glasses?” He asked innocently, despite insulting the Anarcho-capitalist, as he tried to remember the events of earlier in the day. 

Minarchist laughed good-heartedly. “Yep! He said that you were here to find the other extremists?” 

Transhumanist nodded, and Minarchist continued. “Cappy’s got a grudge against them, I know they’re statists but they don’t seem that bad to me, I know that one of the, is here actually!” 

“Really! Which one?” Nazbol asked excitedly. 

“He said that his name was...white identitarian? At least that’s what he said.” Minarchist laughed at Nazbols starry-eyed reaction to this. 

Transhumanist reasoned that this meant it was the Authoritarian Right ideology. 

“He’s at the bar with Hoppe, they get along great! I’ll introduce you.” The capitalist overshared a little, then waved for the two to follow him, Transhumanist went to take Nazbol‘s hand and get moving, but when he looked over, he found that the Bolshevik was gone. 

He had ran off into the crowds to find the bar by himself. “Beep boop.” Transhumanist out his hand over his face and groaned.

“Wait where did the little one go?” Minarchist questioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Minarchist but as someone else said he has no personality, so,  
> I imagine he’s a nice guy so he is a nice guy


	6. Mission failed successfully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all  
> The wackies are trying their best they really are

“Have you seen anything yet Anprim?” The Monarchist asked, scanning the room. It seemed they had run into everyone but the extremists. Anprim shook his head, Anmon sighed and deduced to keep searching. This plan was halted by someone calling out his name. “Anarcho-Monarchy, there you are.” 

Anmon turned to face the voice, it was Ancap, trailed by Libertarian. Both had smiles on their faces. “Ancap! I have been searching for you.” The Monarchist lied.

“What do you think? Libertarian does such a wonderful job with these parties.” Ancap praised his business partner. Out of the corner of his eye Anmon saw their hands almost intertwine, but he did not mention it. 

“Yes! This is a very well organised event.” Anmon commended. “However, I have been wondering-”

Ancap grinned and cut him off. “We’re glad you think so. Now onto business-”

As the three continued to speak, Anprim grew restless and uninterested, slowly edging away from the discussions about money and business. This whole place was disgusting and Anprim felt that if he spent any longer here he’d be sick.

He backed up against one of the walls and groaned. He didn’t want to be here. The clothes they had made him wear were sticking to him. There was far too much noise. His eyes flicked around the room, landing on Nazbol, the nationalist seemed annoyed, and Transhumanist was nowhere to be seen. 

“Nazbol!” He shouted out, voice more shaky than he thought it would be.

The Bolshevik heard his name being called, and looked for the source, surprised to see it was Anprim, he made his way over. He could tell Anprim didn’t want to be here. “Have you seen Transhumanist? He asked, worriedly. 

At the other end of the party, Homonationalist had been searching, he knew exactly what he wanted. He had came here for the Nazi and that is what he was going to get. 

Well, that was the plan, anyway. 

Unfortunately he had had no luck so far. His lack of progress was really starting to get him down. There was a severe lack of hot guys here.   
He rolled his eyes and took another sip from a glass, this wasn’t going great. He checked his phone, and by the sounds of his messages, it didn’t sound like Posadist was having much luck either.

He set down the glass and sighed, looking inbetween all of the rich attendees for any familiar faces, eventually landing on a panicked Anprim and annoyed Nazbol stood against the wall. He quickly made his way over. 

“Uh, Any luck finding the extremists?” He asked. The Bolshevik frowned. “No, and I lost Transhumanist.” The nationalist raised an eyebrow. Transhumanist must have lost Nazbol, not the other way around. 

Homonationalist turned to the primitivist. “Hey Anprim, you good?” He asked quietly. “Your uh, vibes aren’t doing too good.” 

The anarchist peered around the room and shook his head. Homonationalist pulled the two away towards a quieter area.

“This place scary. Too loud. Too many people. Too much technology.” Anprim explained, pulling off the tie that he had been forced to wear and chucking it across the hallway. The nationalist nodded.   
“Yeah, I thought there would be hot guys here, but there’s only these businessmen. I like a man in a suit as much as the next guy but these people are all such prudes, ugh, and I still haven’t found that sexy Nazi.”

Anprim groaned, Homonationalist ignored him, and turned to Nazbol. “What do you think Kiddo.”

“I don’t want to be here.” He huffed, arms crossed. “Yeah tell me about it.” Homonationalist returned, patting Nazbol on the head. 

“Let’s go wait outside.”

It had taken, an extremely long and draining conversation but Anmon had gotten away from Ancap and Libertarian, they had somehow convinced him to hand over more of his families gold, well it probably wasn’t hard to convince him, he would much rather give it away than let his father hold on to it forever, the old man didn’t know how digital banking worked, he wouldn’t notice. 

He was impressed, more than anything. “Well that was an experience was it not Anprim?” He asked, laughing. “Anprim?”

The monarchist looked around worriedly, unable to find his fellow anarchist, “Grug?” Anprim probably shouldn’t be left alone anywhere in public. While looking for the primitivist he ran into a concerned looking Transhumanist, he had to double take, still not used to seeing the man without the box.

He made his way over. “Transhumanist! Have you seen-”

“Anmon! Have you seen-”

“Anprim?” “Nazbol?” They looked at eachother with realisation, then exasperation set it. 

“How did you manage to misplace a child?” The Monarchist asked with irritation.   
“Beep boop, how did you lose a grown man.” Transhumanist responded.

“Um, should I...go?” Minarchist asked awkwardly, unkowning of the situation the two were in. Transhumanist remembered the capitalists presence. 

“Anmon, this is Minarchist, he says that he knows where one of the extremists is.” Minarchist smiled at extended a hand to Anmon.

The monarchist took it. “Minarchist? Friend of Hoppeans? He has told me about you! Anarcho-Monarchy, but call me Anmon, it is a pleasure to meet you.”   
Transhumanist coughed, “The extremists?” He reminded. “We can get the others later, beep boop.” 

“Oh yeah! I’ll bring you there.” Minarchist lead them towards a bar, a few people sat around it socialising. 

“Hoppe?” Minarchist called out, looking around the bar with confusion. “They were just here...”

“They left.” The answer was provided by a skinny, pale looking person who looked up from their drink with boredom. 

“Oh, Thanks Post.” Minarchist turned back to Transhumanist and Anmon. “Sorry, if I see anyone I’ll let you know.” He said apologetically.

Transhumanist and Anmon made their way out of the building, Transhumanist welcomed the fresh air compared to inside. Anmon spotted the other three wackies, “Anprim, there you are!” Anmon called out, speeding up his pace a little to reach the three of them. Taking Anprims hand again. “I feared I had lost you.” He laughed a little. Anprim held onto him, and Anmon patted his head.

“No luck?” Homonationalist asked

“Well uh, I know the Nazi *was* here, at some point.” 

“Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homofash might seem shallow but he cares about his friends.....as long as they are white  
> What a piece of shit 
> 
> Libertarian and Ancap,,,my god,,these bitches gay,,good for them   
> Minarchist is still a lad


	7. Pre-Marital Hand Holding

They had all failed, quite spectacularly, the communal goal and their personal goals. They had not found the extremists, just knew that one of them, was there, at one point in time. Though they had met back with eachother and made their way back to Posadist, all a little irritated at the waste of time.

“We will head for the Overton window tomorrow morning.” Posadist concluded, not wanting to continue conversation with the disappointed wackies. Transhumanist followed Posadist out of the hallway, he had the key to their room. 

As he fumbled to open the door he noticed Posadist leaning down and picking up a flyer that had been left on the ground. He chose to try and ignore that and opened the door, walking inside. Unfortunately, Posadist followed him inside only to smile menacingly. “Transhumanist. Do you remember how I said I’d find a way for you to apologise to me...for the roaches?”

Transhumanist stopped dead in his tracks. “Y-yes, beep boop.”

“I think.” He laughed. “I just found a way for you to repay me.”

The others were still sulking in the hallway. Anprim and Nazbol, discussing why Capitalism was bad, they both had very different reasoning, but it was the thought that counted. 

Anmon was digging through his pockets to find the key to his and Homonationalists room, he hadn’t exactly trusted the nationalist to share with any of the others so had conceded into sharing with him. He found the key and opened the door.  
The two ideologies sat in silence for a while, doing their own separate things.

Though soon enough Homonationalist grew bored of looking through his phone and thought for a moment, trying to fill the silence. “You know, I didn’t actually know you knew any of the extremists. Thought you only knew of them like the rest of us.” He stated absentmindedly. 

“Ah yes, he is a friend of a friend, I met him some years ago. Gave him some of my fathers gold, the old man has no use for it.” Anmon answered. “He is rather inspiring, is he not?” He questioned. 

“I guess...” Homonationalist responded. “Ugh, I’d kill to actually meet the Nazi. It’s a shame we just missed them, now we’re stuck in this degenerate place.” 

Homonationalist peered out of the window to the streets of Ancapistan, this side of the city was far different to where the party had taken place. Bright lights, skyscrapers and smog, he wouldn’t admit it but the copious amounts of clubs and people selling their services on the streets intrigued him, just a little. “It’s kind of turning me on.” He joked.

Anmon laughed uncomfortably. Taking his crown off of his head and inspecting it as a distraction. “I agree that this humble city has some...issues, but I am quite a fan, I appreciate their hospitality in allowing us to stay here.” The anarchist reasoned, hesitating to mention he loved the absence of government the city contained. “I will have to come back at some point.” 

“I guess.” Homonationalist responded again, he considered bringing up the overpriced nature of it all but decided against it. “You have been extremely responsive as of late.” Anmon states sarcastically. Homonationalist played along. “Yep.”

The nationalist quickly grew bored of the silence though, an interesting idea creeping into his mind. He smiled. “You know Anmon, I’ve never actually asked you.”

The anarchist raised an eyebrow. “Asked me what?” He saw the confident smile on the other ideologies face and regretted asking. 

“What’s your opinion on the gays?” 

Anmon recoiled slightly, surprised at Homonationalists bold questioning. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, but confirmation would be nice.” He continued. “Just so I know if you’ll be allowed in the gay ethnostate or not, you know?” Fake ignorance littered his voice. 

“I-I am- I do not, have, a problem, with it, if that is what you are asking. I,it is degeneracy good be talking about something like that with *you* in, in a hotel room.” The monarchist stuttered out, face going red. 

Homonationalist sighed. “Ah, Internalised Homophobia. Okay, that’s nice and all, but, I think you’re forgetting something.” The fascist slid off of the bed where he was sat, and slunk towards Anmon, still sat at the rooms only desk. 

“Before we left to find the extremists, the meeting before that.” He leaned on the back of Anmons chair, the monarchist himself was looking away, feebly trying to hide the embarrassing look on his face.  
They hadn’t spoken about it since, as Anmon imagined would happen. However, the anarchist had most definitely thought about it, a lot.

“Anprim saw us? You called me degenerate but you were the one who started it.” He pushed further, yeah, this was a very good solution to his boredom. “Why don’t we finish that?”

“S-silence vassal! I will not have this interrogation continue any further!” Anmon pushed the chair back, quickly standing up and moving for the door, highly flustered.

Homonationalist reaches for the Monarchists arms and lightly pulled him back, to his surprise Anmon didn’t protest. “Look, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want.” Homonationalist smiled reassuringly. 

Anmon argued with himself in his head for a moment, eventually deciding. “Oh fuck it-”

“You’ll love it.” Homonationalist smiled again.  
In the next room, Anprim sat against the wall fiddling with his necklace as Nazbol ranted about capitalism. 

“It is- Anprim are you even listening.” Nazbol pouted, Anprim jumped when he heard his name. “Y,yes Anarcho-Primitivism listen, Capitalism bad! Very bad, make technology.” 

“That is not what I said but, sure.” Nazbol jumped up onto the bed, bouncing on it a couple times before landing and laying down to catch his breath. Anprim watched on with concern. “No hurt yourself.” 

“You too Anprim? I am not going to get hurt, I am not a child.” 

“You look like child! You should not be here, politics not for children, children should, have fun and enjoy berries.” Anprim explained, looking to Nazbol with genuine concern. Nazbol seemed conflicted with this, sitting up to look back at Anprim.

Anprim continued. “Why you even come on this trip? What you want.” 

Nazbol huffed. “I want to find the extremists and join them, I thought I’d told you this already Anprim.” 

“Can call me Grug.” 

“What?” 

“You call me Grug, Grug my name.” The primitivist smiled. Nazbol seemed surprised by this. “Okay Grug, why are you on this trip then?” 

“Grug want be status quo again, get rid of centrists, get rid of technology.” Anprim elaborated, Nazbol nodded. “Again?” He asked. “Again! Yes. Anarcho-Primitivism status quo once, better time...”  
Nazbol tried his best to hold back a yawn.  
“Nazbol sleep now.” The primitivist shook his head and pointed to the bed. 

Nazbol rolled his eyes, wanting to argue, but he was tired. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I will say that I headcanon Homonationalists name to be Matthew
> 
> Finally paying off that stuff from the second chapter, love Checkovs gun  
> Me *writing fanfiction*:the English language is my passion


	8. Cuban Missile Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wackies back on the road  
> What road safety crimes will they commit

“Buy me the Nuke.”

Posadist smiled, shoving the flyer in Transhumanists face, he stumbled backwards slightly, grabbing the paper and scanning its contents. It was a poster advertising the sale of ‘McNukes’.

Transhumanist sighed, he couldn’t say no to Posadist now, he had no choice. He looked over the paper. They were selling it in Bitcoin. This place just kept getting weirder. 

“Where are we going to put it, beep boop?” Transhumanist rightfully asked. 

“We’ll put it in the back of your car comrade!

Transhumanist felt an overwhelming sense of dread. “I don’t have the money for this.” He reasoned, pleading to the communist. 

“There won’t be any need for money when I’m done with it.” Posadist cackled, smiling as he pulled the paper back. Transhumanist realised in that moment that the only thing more terrifying to him than the idea of never getting those robot arms was the idea of Posadist having possession of a nuclear weapon. 

And yet, that morning, Transhumanist bought the man a nuke. The Extra-Mini version anyway, that was all he could afford. He (and Anprim) had to be reassured multiple times that it wasn’t active and there would be little risk of that happening. It, it’s not like they could launch it anyway, it’d be fine. Posadist had flipped through the manual, exclaiming how user friendly the nuke was. 

Anmon and Anprim we’re struggling to lift it into the back of the truck. Homonationalist refusing to help and instead recording the ordeal with his phone. Transhumanist was concerned with how little the others seemed concerned with this. 

Nazbol was sulking in the front seat, still upset at last nights failure. So Transhumanist simply stood, blank faced under his cardboard box and watched, not sure who he was dissapointed in most. He had been completely undermined by Posadist. 

Stupid human emotion, he didn’t understand it. 

They eventually fit the, bomb, the bomb.. In the back of the pickup. Posadist lecturing them about the structure of atomic weaponry and it’s dangers. Which didn’t help Transhumanists confidence. To Anprims surprise, Anmon manoevoured his way to sit in the remaining space next to Posadist in the back.

In the Primitivists opinion, the monarchist had been acting strangely the whole day but hesitated to mention it after Nazbol said he didn’t notice any change in the other anarchists behaviour. Homonationalist seemed surprised at Anmons seating decision as well. “What, you’d rather sit next to a nuke than me?” He faked being offended. 

“With all due respect, I failed to understand any of what Posadist just informed us of, I know little of what this actually is.” The monarchist patted the side of the bomb. 

“Don’t do that.” Posadist threatened. Anmon awkwardly took his hand away. “Okay...”

Homonationalist rolled his eyes at the sight, and pulled Anprim along. The primitivist reluctantly got in the car, annoyed he’d be trapped inside of it. 

As Transhumanist sat himself in the drivers seat and turned on the ignition, he briefly though on what he would do if any authorities pulled them over. Maybe he should become an Anarcho-Transhumanist. 

“Has everyone got their seatbelts on, beep boop.” Might as well try to limit any criminal offence charges. 

“Yep!” Nazbol excitedly answered. 

“What, are you my daddy now?” Homonationalist joked, pulling over his seatbelt anyway. Anprim just growled. “Anarcho-Primitivism slave to no man!” 

He ignored the Luddite. “Homonationalist do not call me that, beep boop.” 

He began to drive, maybe being back on the road would take his mind off of his decimated bank account and morals. Why did he buy a nuke. Technology isn’t for destruction. He sighed.  
When the world succumbed to the Neo-Posadist nuclear order maybe he’d be the one to blame. He fell back into silence as he drive, like before they had stopped at Ancapistan. Expecting the silence this time none of the others attempted talking to him. 

Nazbol had tried to stay awake, humming the anthem of the National Bolsheviks until eventually he fell asleep, which took about a hour, he had had a late night. He was adorable, in a way. Even if the ideology was a joke, Anprim thought.

“Homonationalist?” The primitivist asked. 

“Yeah?”

“How open window?” He poked at the glass window of the car. Homonationalist groaned and leaned over to open the window. The primitivist grunted in thanks, then stuck his head out of the window. 

“I thought you were gonna ask to borrow my phone again.” He commented, going back to scrolling mindlessly through the device. “I would have made you pay to help replace it but.” He glanced at the primitivist. “You know.” He smirked. Anprim looked at the device with disgust. 

“Technology destroy.” He mumbled, before going back to leaning out of the window. Underneath the strong winds he could make out Anmon and Posadist talking. The wacky communist failing to explain how atomic weaponry functioned to a confused Anarcho-Monarchist.

Posadist eventually gave up and Anmon changed the topic of conversation. “Posadist, I have been wondering, do you happen to know, where the Overton window...is?”  
The communist looked at him in confusion. 

“It is simply that, we have been travelling for a rather long time, and I am starting to think. I do not know where it is.. and would not count on Anprim or Nazbol knowing. Do you?” He continued. Rude, Anprim thought, though the monarchist was right, he had no idea. 

Posadist went silent for a moment, Anprim eventually heard a silent chuckle from the ideology. “Hehe, well, I don’t know the, exact coordinates but Transhumanist does, I think.”

The primitivist didn’t fully understand the words but didn’t like the uncertainty in their leaders voice. He peered over at the man driving in the technology he was trapped in. Refusing to take off the cardboard box even when driving. 

“Anarcho-Primitivist has important question.” He asked, not thinking he’d get an answer. 

“What is it Luddite cuck.” The Transhumanist insulted. Anprim narrowed his eyes in annoyance, continuing anyway. “Where is Overton Window. Posadist say he do not know.”

Transhumanist almost laughed. “I’m a robot, beep boop, I’m smart enough to know where I am going, unlike you.” 

“Technology destroy!” Anprim repeated, falling back into his seat with a huff. Homonationalist chuckled at the two opposites arguement, detached and not very interested. Anprim didn’t speak for a while, thinking instead. The silence interspersed with the sounds of the technology everwhere eventually got to him though, and he looked back to Homonationalist for a conversation.

“...Homonationalist?”

“Yes?” 

“Have you noticed, Anarcho-Monarchy, act different this morning?” 

Homonationalist laughed a little too loudly once he had registered the question, looked to Anprim with amusement, and sighed. 

“Yes, and there’s a reason.” He laughed again. 

Anprim raised his eyebrows. “Really?” His curiously settled into concern. “Why he act strange?” 

Homonationalist places a hand on Anprims shoulder and laughed again, about to provide the answer when he were interrupted by the force of Transhumanists pickup stopping suddenly. 

“What the hell man!” Homonationalist shouted, rubbing his arm which he had hit on the seat next to him. Anprim whined, “Technology destroy.” He shook his head, he was very dazed, and pushed the door open to get out.  
Transhumanist gestured to where Nazbol was sat, panic evident in his voice. “Where the fuck did Nazbol go!?”


	9. Girl help I care about these idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: Transhumanist psychoanalyses his friends when he’s nervous

“You looked over and he was just gone?” Posadist asked again. Transhumanist was getting annoyed at the repetitive questioning. 

“Yes!”  
How do you lose the same child twice on two seperate occasions? He berated himself in his head. If he were a robot- he didn’t have the time to think about that right now. 

“Well this is...an unexpected turn of events.” Anmon commented, a bewildered look on his face as he tried to comfort Anprim, who was shaking. Staring at Transhumanists car, no doubt trying to think up some elaborate excuse to why it was technologies fault. 

Posadist had pulled Transhumanist away from the remaining wackies. Despite the communists strange ideological beliefs and even stranger appearance and demeanour, his neutrality towards arguements and strong, unwavering decision making made him an effective leader. 

Transhumanist sighed. “Beep boop, what do we do now?” 

The communist thought for a moment, then muttering something in Spanish. “How much longer is the rest of the drive?” He eventually asked, arms crossed as he looked into the distance contemplatively. Transhumanist collected his thoughts. “...20 minutes.” They really had gotten so close.

“Let’s keep going then.” Posadist decided. Transhumanist turned to him with surprise. “Without Nazbol?” 

“What are we supposed to do Transhumanist? We don’t know where he is, or what happened to him.” The communist explained. Transhumanist struggled for what to say next, Posadist was correct, but it just didnt feel right. 

It may have been adrenaline or confusion speaking for his usual thoughts, but he realised that he had grown to care for Nazbol quite a bit more than he thought possible. National Bolshevism as an ideology was compatible with Transhumanism, sure, pretty much everything was, but he cared for him slightly more than that.  
Nazbol was just a lonley kid, a weird, genocidal one sure, but with Transhumanists group of friends that was pretty surface level.

His emotions were overriding his logic again. Stupid human emotions. He scolded himself, letting Posadist go back to the other wackies, they’d keep going. 

The only reason he was here was because if the centrists were dead, he’d be one step closer to that ideal Robot body. That’s what he kept telling himself, maybe if he kept saying it, it would start being true.

As he slipped back into the drivers seat he noticed that what he wanted to happen least had started to take place. 

He had started to really care about the other wackies.

In all of their stupidity and charm, he had started to care about them. 

Even the fucking primitivist. Even thinking of Anprim like that felt a little mean now... Transhumanist felt slightly bad about calling him a cuck earlier. Only slightly... Anarcho-Primitivism was a nonsensical and dangerous ideology, but it was never going to happen. Anprim himself was, sweet. An idiot, a complete idiot on every level, yet he had possessed no true malicious intent in all the time Transhumanist had known him. He would miss even the primitivist if he was gone. 

That realisation almost caused him to bash his head on the wheel, holding back from the action only to prevent damage from to his cardboard box. 

In Nazbol’s place, Anmon sat down instead, he must have been tired of talking to Posadist at the back, understandable. 

“Transhumanist, are you alright friend? You seem quite, unhappy with the...unnatural departure of our little authoritarian friend.” The Monarchist looked over with concern. 

Anmon was also, very much, an idiot. Transhumanist knew that. Anarcho-Monarchism, while nowhere near as bad as any Primitivism, was still a poorly thought out and contradictory ideology. He was overly loud and far too full of himself... but he was genuine, an extremely attentive and protective friend, ready to do anything for anyone at anytime, and Transhumanist respected that. 

He stopped himself from thinking further. There he went again, caring. 

“I am fine, just confused.” Transhumanist lied. 

“Oh, well, alright then.” The anarchist sat beside him conceded, giving a reassuring smile, still worried but he changed the subject. “Onward vassal!” He shouted out, pointing forward with a stupid grin on his face. 

Homonationalist laugh from the back seat and Transhumanist began driving. They would get to the window, eliminate the centrists, and then he could begin his search for Nazbol.

The remaining ideologies inside the vehicle had began to discuss what they thought had happened to Nazbol, if he was alright, where he was. They had as little of an idea as Transhumanist did and were all admittedly worried, if not bewildered all least.

He genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened, one moment Nazbol was asleep, the next he had started to wake up, this had drawn Transhumanists attention but by the time he had looked over the nationalist was completely gone.

Logic simply didn’t apply. Logic had stopped applying as soon as he had met the other wackies. The -other- wackies, he pondered over his brains choice of words. He was a wacky wasn’t he. And so was Nazbol.

>>>  
print (“To-Do List: Destroy the centrists, Find Nazbol”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I will say I headcanon Transhumanists human name to be Nicolas   
> Yes because, Nick Land
> 
> Also Posadist is Cuban so he speaks Spanish yea


	10. Horseshoe Theory

Posadist was smiling widely, they had almost made it! He could even see the ground floor of Overton Window in the distance now, a massive, grey square building in the centre of a sprawling city divided into appropriately themed quarters. The full floating city in the sky was covered by thick grey clouds. It hadn’t been the easiest trip sure, Nazbol had disappeared into thin air and they hadn’t found the - important - extremists in that capitalist hell city, but they were sure to be here. 

He glanced lovingly over at the Nuke that Transhumanist had bought for him, he was so nice! He had seemed hesitant but they would all soon see the good that would come from it. 

The communist clambered onto the roof of Transhumanists car for a better view of the centrists headquarters, he made sure he was balanced well and made himself comfortable. 

He had been so excited to join together the regular extremists with his wacky extremists he hadn’t thought of the other benefits of the centricide! 

There would be - much - less opposition to his ideals and much more chance of the revolution with the centrists and moderates purged off of the planet. He would be recognised, praised again, just like he deserved. He laughed. This was going to be wonderful. 

He was distracted from his grandiose thoughts by Anprim leaning out of the window and looking up at him. “Posadist?” He shouted up. 

“Yes Anarcho-Primitivist?” He grinned down at the other wacky. 

“Um, why you, sit there?” 

“Why not.” The communist observed. He pointed over at the Overton Window. “Look at it! Isn’t it beautiful-”

Anprim moved to object, he thought they were going to kill the centrists, not praise the building they hid inside. 

“-how we will turn it to dust!” 

That gave Anprim the answer he required before he even asked. “Posadist clearly crazy.” He shouted back inside of the car. 

He heard muffled conversation below him and he laughed lightly, sliding back down to sit next to his nuke and peer through the back window. 

Yes, this was going to be wonderful. 

They were soon situated on top of a hill looking down at the Overton Window where Transhumanist had parked, Posadist parted with the nuke in the back sadly, whispering something about how he would return for it. 

The group made their way over with some hesitation, the building was disgustingly grey and boring, not a single saturated colour in sight. The wackies weren’t exactly sure what they expected but they soon noticed that the doors appeared to have been busted open. 

Posadist started to lead the way, when the other wackies hesitated he spun around gleefully. “What are you waiting for? Come on.” 

The two anarchists shrugged and followed the communist inside. Homonationalist did the same soon after.

Transhumanist raised his arms in confusion. “Where are you all going? Beep boop. Aren’t we going to plan anything?” 

Homonationalist turned to him and intentionally shrugged much like the anarchists. “Look at us big man, we don’t need a plan.” Transhumanist sighed with slight amusement and he followed the rest of the group inside. 

The building was eerily silent, they had been glancing in rooms as they passed and all so far had seemed empty. They had almost completely cleared an entire hallway and there was no sign of anyone. 

Anprim pushed open the door to one of the final rooms they had not checked and went inside.  
Posadist was overlooking the search and had expected Anprim to return emptily handed again but he called out. “Posadist! Anarcho-Primitivism find someone!” 

The other wackies turned, most with surprise and quickly made their way over. Posadist went in first and surveyed the situation. 

Anprim was stood awkwardly above a body, unconscious on the ground. “He breathing still.” The primitivist commented. The room looked quite destroyed, limited furniture strewn across the room unlike every other they had seen.

Upon further inspection there also seemed to be rather fresh blood pooling on the floor and splattered up one wall. 

The communist bent down and pulled up the ideology on the floor by the grey shirt. He was hugging a recreation of the Overton Windows floor plan in his arms and taped to his shirt was a piece of paper stating “Let’s not be too hasty here”. 

The final defining feature he noticed was that the man had a quite prominent black eye, just beginning to bruise. 

“What the hell happened to him?” Homonationalist asked, eyebrow raised at the ideologies sorry state. 

Posadist laughed. “I’m not sure, but he’s clearly a centrist.” He dropped the unconscious man before his shirt started to disintegrate in Posadists grip. The force of being dropped seemed to awake the man. 

Anmon dramatically drew his sword and pointed it at the slowly awakening ideology, Transhumanist didn’t think this was necessary, the ideology didn’t seem like they’d be a threat at all. 

The man seemed to slowly regain his senses, panic and fear settling in once he noticed the odd group stood above him and the sword pointed at his face. He threw his arms up in surrender and closed his eyes tightly. 

“Please don’t hurt me!” He pleaded, Posadist nodded at Anmon who withdrew his sword slightly. 

“What is your name vassal!” The monarchist demanded. 

“M-moderate!” He stuttered. “Moderate Lee! Please don’t hurt me!” He cried out again, Anmons eyes narrowed and he dropped the sword entirely, Moderate Lee was clearly not dangerous in the least. 

Posadist took over. “We won’t, if you tell us what happened here.” He lied, he was fully planning on hurting the moderate. He gestured to the destroyed room.

Moderate Lee glanced around with fear and confusion, realisation slowly taking over. Posadist interjected once he thought the centrist had had enough time. “Well?” 

“I-I, the, the extremists!” 

Posadist grinned. “The extremists are here! I knew it!” He turned to the other wackies, all happy with this information. “What did they do?” 

“I, I don’t know! He-he knocked me out, and...in just one hit...” The centrist fretted, panic morphing into a pitiful form of disappointment. “Horseshoe...” He muttered sadly. 

“Horseshoe?” Homonationalist questioned, clearly enjoying this interrogation far too much. 

“He-he was my friend! Horseshoe Centrist!” The moderate explained, realising he would have to hand over any and all information if he wanted to even think of getting out of this alive. 

Transhumanist groaned at the mention of Horseshoe centrism, he had done research on it in the past, truly moronic.  
Posadist noticed this and argued with himself with what to do with the centrist. Finally coming up with a suitable solution. “Anprim?” 

“Yes Posadist?” The primitivist answered. 

“We will take him with us, you will make sure he does not run away.” 

Anprim groaned, he didn’t want to do what Posadist was telling him to do but he had little choice, grabbing the Moderate by the back of his shirt and hauling him onto his shoulder, he was stronger than he looked, to Homonationalists surprise. 

Moderate Lee scrambled to get out of the primitivists grip, attempts pitiful. “L-let go of me!” He feebly contested. 

“Let’s keep moving.” The communist grinned at the groups success. They were close, he could almost feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I will say that I headcanon Anmon’s human name to be Edward mostly because of the twitter rp yea :)
> 
> Anyway, I care modlee, and as such I must include him


	11. Nationalists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :)

Nazbol ran as quickly as his short legs would take him, Ushanka held tightly to his chest, trying to hold back from crying. He didn’t know where he was going, he could barely see the grey walls of the Overton window through his tear-filled, blurry vision. 

He had gone back on himself multiple times in his blind search for the exit, and was now sure he was running in circles. 

Why had they been so mean to him? He had done what they wanted! All he wanted was to join them. It wasn’t fair! He missed the wackies. Would they have thrown him away like that? No. They wouldn’t. Right? Were they worried about him? His head was spinning with thoughts, he couldn’t concentrate on a thing. 

His running was halted when he ran straight into something. It was a person, he couldn’t tell who. With the force of the impact he fell to the floor and stopped holding back his tears, he curled up in panic, just hoping whoever it was wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Nazbol?” 

He was picked up from the ground and into a hug, he glanced up blearily. It was Transhumanist. All the fear left him and he fell limp into the much taller ideologies arms. For a few seconds he felt a hand brushing through his hair. 

Posadist approached slowly, with a look of uncharacteristic, deep pity. “Nazbol, what happened?” The wacky communist asked with caution. They had found the little authoritarian earlier than expected but, he hadn’t wanted to find him like this. 

It took a few seconds for Nazbol to register the question and mumble something out through his tears. “I- they, they, didn’t want m-me, they were, so, so m-mean.” He sobbed into Transhumanists jumper. 

Posadist looked to the other wackies, puzzled. They were all as concerned and confused as he was. How did Nazbol get here? 

“Who didn’t want you?” Posadist continued, Nazbol tensed up at the question. Homonationalist stepped forward and made a motion to stop the line of questioning, he pulled Posadist away and started whispering to him. 

“It must have been the Nazi- and the communist, I guess him too” The nationalist reasoned. “I mean, who else could have brought him here?”  
Posadist narrowed his eyes, thinking. “But why?” 

Homonationalist gestured over to the wacky anarchists, both attempting to comfort Nazbol, though Anprim still holding the pathetic centrist that they had found over his shoulder. “Centrists.” He said simply. 

Posadist was silent for a few moments, thinking. Homonationalist rolled his eyes and elaborated. “Didn’t he say something about a ‘Horseshoe Centrist’?” 

Posadist nodded, he saw where the nationalist was going. Nazbol was economically left and culturally right- the perfect counter to a reductionist. To Nazbol both sides -were- the same in some sense. Poor Nazbol, what had happened to make the extremists reject him?

He would have to have a word with the Marxist-Leninist once they met again. He was quickly planning the conversation in his head when he was taken out of his thoughts by Anmon rushing past him. 

The monarchist had done so in order to chase after another ideology, attempting to get past the group without being seen. He had caught up quickly and grabbed the other ideology by the back of the shirt, the commotion had grabbed the attention of the other wackies, who turned to see what was happening. 

“Are you the one who upset our Authoritarian friend?” He interrogated, pushing the blonde man back towards the other wackies. 

He just looked annoyed, like his time was being wasted, and honestly confused as to why he had just been targeted. Nazbol looked over to him and shook his head. 

“Oh...” Anmon looked to the side. awkwardly. “Sorry.” He stepped out of the way of the other man. 

Homonationalist seemed confused as he examined the ideology. “Christian Conservative? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” 

Upon further inspection it was, in fact, the Christian Conservative - if the cross necklace, suburban white dad vibe and overall ‘I’m better than you’ attitude were any indication. As he continued comforting Nazbol, Transhumanist realised he had never actually told the rest of them that Conservative was alive. Well this was awkward. 

“Transhumanist, it’s good to see you, sorry for uh, disappearing so quickly, our last meeting, I was pressed for time, I’m sure you understand.” He greeted nonchalantly, adjusting his cross necklace. Transhumanist nodded stiffly in acknowledgment. 

“12 Rules For Life blocked the bullet.” He continued dismissively, as if he were tired of explaining it. “Though I’m flattered you noticed.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t care, why are you here then? Are you...joining the centrists?” Homonationalist continued. 

Conservative laughed. “Absolutely not, I’m here for the same thing as you, I imagine, who uh...are you anyway?” 

It was Homonationalists turn to laugh. “Yeah I don’t think you are here for the same thing as - me - I’m Homonationalist.” He extended a hand, fully expecting it to be declined. 

Conservative took a few seconds to register Homonationalist’s name, recoiling once he realised what it meant. He scanned his eyes over the other man again and sighed. “I should have expected that.” 

The other wackies and Moderate Lee could only look on in bewilderment at the scene playing out in front of them.  
Conservative raised his hand and cut off Homonationalist, who was about to speak again. “I’m here for the Nazi, and I have an offer he won’t be able to refuse, to benefit the both of us, well mostly me.” He smiled with confidence. 

Homonationalist slunk forward, Conservative took a step back. “Offer he can’t refuse, huh? I’ve got a couple of those myself. I’m very eager to meet him, say, why don’t I go with you?” 

The other wackies all made various noises of surprise, Nazbol looked over at him, eyes still watering. “N-no you can’t l-leave!”. Transhumanist ran his hands through the Bolsheviks hair again. 

Homonationalist frowned. “Sorry kid, but, this is what I’ve been looking forward to this whole time.” He explained, trying to keep out the twinge of regret in his voice.

Moderate had been put down at some point, the centrist was sat backed up against the wall, fearfully staring up at the wackies. Anprim was looking worriedly over at Anmon, who was wearing an expression that the other anarchist could not read. 

Posadist held his hands together and thought for a moment. “This is certainly a shame, but I can’t stop you.” The wacky communist was, annoyed by this development, definitely nothing more- Homonationalist was a valuable part of the plans, but, he wasn’t going to stop the nationalist from joining the Conservative. 

“It’s not like I’m never gonna see you again, I’m just, moving on to bigger things.” He smiled widely at conservative. “I finally get to meet that sexy Nazi.”

Conservative clicked his fingers. “Talking of...that, we don’t have much time, if you’re coming with me hurry up.” 

Homonationalist looked as if he were weighing his options, looking back at the wackies before following Conservative, who was slowly backing away and about to leave. As the wacky nationalist moved to follow he winked at Anmon, making a quick gesture with a hand. “Call me.” He smirked. 

Anmon frowned, almost angry, he turned away.  
Posadist sighed, they were possibly one wacky down, at least they had found Nazbol, though the little Bolsheviks current state hadn’t been made better by Homonationalists departure. 

Still, the communist was focused, they were close, Conservative being here was only reinforcing what he knew. 

He had some more problems to sort out now but, everything was fine. They would keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homonat really throwing away all his relationships for some n4zi,, smh


	12. Very serious not at all sad

With Homonationalist and Conservative now gone, Posadist was able to turn his attention back to the remaining wacky nationalist, Nazbol, still held tightly in Transhumanists tinfoil covered arms. 

Transhumanist had felt awful when he saw the little ideology running through the Overton window alone. Nazbol had rips in his clothing and his hair was scruffier than the last time Transhumanist had seen him, what had happened?  
He sighed, just glad to have the kid back, if anything. 

The group was in more of a mess than usual, somehow. Posadist struggled for a moment with formulating his new plan. He had almost reached a conclusion when a buzzing sound filled his head, he shuddered and his antennae twitched, drawing the attention of the group, he grinned.

“I knew it would come in handy.” He began to chuckle.  
Anmon grew concerned, pushing away whatever he himself was feeling. “Are you alright Posadist-”

“Yes, I’m more than alright, in fact.” He paused, turning dramatically to face one of the far stretching corridors of the Overton window. “I know exactly, where we are are going, our presence is requested.” 

Transhumanist glanced down at Nazbol, who held onto him tighter. “I, I don’t want to go.” He mumbled. 

“Nazbol!” Posadist smiled again. “I have a - very - important job for you, and I know you can do it.” 

This grabbed the Bolsheviks attention and he slowly turned to face Posadist, who quickly made his way over to Moderate Lee.   
The centrist was paralysed in fear, staring up and shaking. Posadist suddenly grabbed the centrist by the shirt, hauling him up. “Because you don’t want to come with us, I need you to watch this - awful - centrist for me and make sure he doesn’t run away!” 

Nazbol sniffled, then looked over to Moderate Lee, then looked back to Posadist, nodding slowly. “You, you will come back, right?” He asked, voice still croaky from crying. 

Transhumanist patted Nazbols hair, taking the Bolsheviks Ushanka and placing it back onto his head. “Of course we will, beep boop.” 

Nazbol rubbed his eyes and released himself from Transhumanists grip, moving over instead to Anprim and Moderate Lee. He eyed the Moderate, it had been a long time since he had seen this centrist... when the other centrists had kicked him out of their meeting. 

Moderate Lee was dropped back to the floor, as Posadist was buzzing with impatient energy.   
“Come on now- we have to go, we will be back Nazbol!” Posadist laughed and started to bounce his way down the hallway, the other wackies quickly followed. Anmon giving Nazbol a little wave goodbye before they all turned the corner. 

Nazbol now stood above Moderate in the nearly empty hallway, staring down at him - as menacingly as a child who had just been crying could - until the wackies were out of view. He then crossed his arms with a pout and slumped onto the floor next to the centrist. 

Moderate Lee flinched away, though he eventually realised the little authoritarian wasn’t going to hurt him, and so glanced over warily. 

“It has been long time, Moderate.”

Moderate almost jumped at the sound of Nazbols voice, as small as it was. “Y-yes” He stuttered out. He was terrified, not entirely of Nazbol persay, just of the entire situation he was in, still feeling dazed and shaken up. 

Nazbol looked down to the ground at his feet, after a few moments, he opened his mouth to speak but caught himself. A few more seconds of silence and he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. 

Moderate Lee was now scared and confused, all in one. “W-why are you sorry?” 

“I...your friend.” Nazbol looked away. Even with the minimal information Moderate was able to piece together what Nazbol meant. He didn’t know what to say back.

“They wanted me to do it, so I did, but it was for nothing, so I’m sorry.” Nazbol continued.

“T-they?” Moderate was still staring at the ground, trying to carry on this conversation as long as he could.

“The extremists, but, they told me to...” He trailed off, not wanting to repeat what the communist that he had so adored had said to him. 

“W-why?” 

Nazbol rubbed his eyes and sniffled again. He had defeated Horseshoe Centrist and they got up to leave, without even thanking him, he tried to follow them but, but they... his head was spinning again. “I don’t know.”

There was loud commotion in the distance then, Nazbol looked over worriedly in the direction of the clanking and banging. He should go and help- no, he’d promised Posadist he would watch Moderate Lee. 

“I wanted to join them for so long, I didn’t think it was going to be like this.”

“D-does it have to be the, the e-extremists, that you join? If they don’t want you, maybe, o-others will, th-those people seemed to wa-want you around.”  
He eventually managed to say, pointing over in the direction that the wackies had ran. Lee looked down at the little authoritarian and then realised just how... little, Nazbol really looked, he had never payed attention to how young he seemed before.

“They...did.” Nazbol pulled his knees to his chest and looked to where Moderate was pointing. His attention was averted for the moment. Moderate let out a quiet, shaky breath and started to slowly slide away.

In a split second the nationalist turned back to the centrist, staring up at him intently he asked. “You will become a Nazbol, yes?” 

Immeasurably scared, and worried he had been caught trying to escape, he closed his eyes tight and held up his arms in surrender.

“Y-yes I’ll be a Nazbol just please don’t hurt me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but it very much hurt to write  
> Nazbol :(((((((  
> Moderate Lee has been successfully converted to National Bolshevism, this will definitely last


End file.
